Epitaph

We silently walk to the cemetery
We, pall-bearers of our own coffins

We used to have a life
And an economy
Running on dollars and sense

Now we are a graveyard
Full of shallow graves.
Mounds of fresh earth
And crooked stick crosses.

Ravens disembowel corpses
Singing a harsh type of dirge
No dignity, no rites, no tears
No pastor, no speech, no soil!

Wonekano

Wonekano

Tinofamba zvisina ruzha, tichienda kumakuva
Isu, zvitunha zvakabatirana bhokisi rine mitumbi yedu

Taisimbove nehupenyu
Nehupfumi hwainhuwirira
Nemari yaitenga uchisara neimwe muhomwe.

Nhasi tave munda uzere makuva
Makuva matsva, azere zvitunha zvipenyu
Nemichinjikwa yetumiti twakakokonyara.

Makunguwo ari pamabiko
Ari kutumbura zvitunha.
Icho chachoborwa ziso
Icho chachoborwa mhino . .
Makunguwo ari kuimba
Zvapera, zvapera, hapana achachema
Hapana achaviga, hapana achataura
Kana ivhu rekufusira vafi hapachina